


Powder Room

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt, M/M, Minor Violence, One-Sided Relationship, Physical Abuse, Pining, Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, nobody is nice, reminiscing the early days of the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Do you even like me?”Hux looks from the balled paper towels in his fists. His belt is still unbuckled, jangling against his hips.“Will I hurt your feelings if I say no?”





	

A hotel ballroom, reserved for the best of the best. Silk and satin, pearl and diamond. Champagne in crystal glasses. Conversation: a dance.

Leave through the marble corridors, go where nobody can hear. Open a bathroom door, find two men who kiss like they are aiming to kill.

 

“Do you even like me?”

Hux looks from the balled paper towels in his fists. His belt is still unbuckled, jangling against his hips.

“Will I hurt your feelings if I say no?"         

Kylo says nothing. Holding onto the sink counter, he can barely stand. His trousers are missing. His shoes are missing. Tie: a noose. Million-dollar jewellery lies on the marble floor.

“Good. I would hate to deal with them.”

Hux throws the towels into the trash and wraps his tie around a fist like a boxer’s glove.

He leaves Kylo to manage their mess.

 

Every six months or so, the world’s silver spoon fed converge on a single point. Kylo has forgotten why and stopped scowling at the invitation shoved into his hands.

He has never stopped running like a love-struck teenager when Hux pulls him from the hall. But he forgot to check his father’s stare. He forgot to feel guilty.

 

Through the marble corridors. To a place where nobody can hear.

Hux throws Kylo against the door in a room of white and black. He rips at his clothes without a thought that he will have to face the world like this.

One leg held up by the knee. A patchwork of tattoos under the light. Kylo bites his hand to stop the screams. He is fucked like a whore who will be kept quiet about the blood by a handful of green.

Hux twists the chains on Kylo’s neck until the spirals converge on his throat. The white sparks stop once he is dumped onto the floor.

 

Kylo doesn’t know which one of them is insatiable. Hux bites him like he can take out a piece. He looks at him like he wants to spit out the bones.

But Kylo presses on the bruises under his dressing gown, pretends that it’s Hux’s fingers seeking to reclaim the mark. He closes his hands over his throat, pretending it’s Hux. Hux. Hux Hux HuxHuxHuxHux—

 

“Are you hurt?”

They didn’t even go as far as to take off Kylo’s slacks. He is still mostly dressed, lying on the floor, wincing. His thighs are wet with cum.

Kylo wonders how the fuck is he meant to get on the jet tomorrow without the stares. Will it even matter? It’s not like nobody knows what he has been doing.

“Get up.”

Kylo looks from the marble tiles. A hand is thrusted out toward him. He takes it, unsure what he is meant to do with it. The decision is taken from Kylo when he is yanked to his feet.

“Turn.”

Kylo is pressed to the wall, face first. He is almost scared that he will be used again when fingers pry at him, opening him up.

“No damage.” And then Hux is doing up Kylo’s trousers and buckling his belt.

Kylo turns and his legs give away.

He is caught, held to Hux’s chest.

“Come on, up.” It’s almost gentle.

Kylo struggles. Wobbling, he pulls himself to Hux’s height. Eye to eye (Green. Like the ocean shallows. Cold. Like money and iron). Lips to lips.

He felt the mistake the moment he made the move.

He kissed Hux. Kissed him like he could make up for the cold of his chokeholds and the marble slates.

Kylo is thrown against the porcelain sink. His head cracks on the mirror. It hurts as much as the door slamming.

 

A place where nobody can hear.

Seems like it doesn’t just belong to the two of them.

Kylo is sat on a hotel bed. Ankles crossed and fingers fiddling with the bracelet of his watch. Buttons are missing from his shirt. Scrapes sting under the fabric.

There is a man standing in front of him he wishes he hadn’t known. He is making an offer and Kylo is pretending to listen. It sounds like Kylo should be pitching, considering he is the product.

“Think about our talk, Kylo. I promise, it won’t be a decision you will regret.”

There is a grey thumb on Kylo’s lip – cold, rough. A smell: spices and cigars, hard liquor and a foreign cologne.

The door closes and Kylo is alone.

Fingers jammed into the bracelet on his tattooed wrist, Kylo leaves the room. Carpeted corridors merge into each other.

Didn’t they have the same conversation before? When he was sixteen, freshly thrown into the bloom of teenage naivety and unaware that it isn’t right for older men to go after boys like him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

Kylo is grabbed by the back of his neck. Nails jam into the stutters of his pulse. He cringes under Hux’s scowl, falls against a wall and trembles like a dog.

“Huh? You fucking bitch! Did you think you could find someone better? Did you think you could play me?”

Whimper is the only thing Kylo can do. This is not something he can win.

“Get the fuck up!”

Through the marble corridors to a place where nobody can hear when Hux throws Kylo through the door.

He falls over Kylo, hands to his throat. He is hissing something into his ear as Kylo tries to claw him off.

“Please, please, please—”

Hux doesn’t hear “stop” when he yanks Kylo’s hair and calls him a whore, when his open palm meets his face.

Kylo has never cried before, even when he bled. But today he doesn’t hide the ugly sobs.

Hux holds him against the floor by his hair, half crazed, half gone to his lust. The only thing that beats through his skull is when Kylo’s sobs turn into broken words.

“Please! Please jus’ kill me! Jus’ fuckin’ kill me already!”

Kylo is a mess: tears and broken lips, cheeks red from the hits he took. His arms cover his face the moment Hux lets go.

“Just kill me, just kill me, just kill me—”

“Kylo?”

He has never seen Hux feel regret. Is that even something he can feel? Or is that another facet just to make Kylo calm down.

How can his eyes lie like that?

“Kylo,” Hux says, “I’m not going to kill you.”

When Hux sits away, Kylo thinks he will go to hit him again. He flinches to hide his face. Sobs just become part of it.

“Oh fucks sake. _Kylo_.”

His wrists are taken with force. Sweaty fingers pried apart.

A kiss. In the hollow of the palm.

Kylo startles and looks as Hux takes the other hand and kisses the knuckles of his curled fingers.

“Why would I want to kill you.”

“I made you angry.” He doesn’t know how he finds his voice.

“It was my fault. Not yours.”

Kylo feels too small in a body two sizes too large. With detachment, he watches Hux pry bracelets from his skin. His tears are an afterthought.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_.”

“Don’t make me say it twice.” Hux bites Kylo’s tattooed wrist and sucks a blot of red. It’s a promise.

Kylo pushes himself up and Hux sits across his thighs. His face is steady, but not as so under the surface.

“ _You’re sorry_.”

“Yes.” Hux looks nervous, like it’s Kylo who will land a hit. “You are repeating yours—” His voice is drowned by Kylo’s lips.

They kiss like teenagers behind the school gym, not two men who buy diamonds like candy.

Kylo holds Hux under his suit jacket, feeling guiltier for this indulgence than spilling a thousand-dollar bottle of champagne.

Hux kisses him with lips cracked from shouting. Kylo kisses him with softness that got him into this mess to start with.

Kylo presses his lips to the corner of Hux’s mouth as he speaks – trying to shut him up.

“What happened to you anyway?”

Kylo doesn’t reply, choosing to kiss under Hux’s chin.

“Did someone hurt you? Did _he_ hurt you?” _Of course_ he knows.

Kylo sighs against Hux’s throat.

“He did, didn’t he?” Hux takes Kylo by his overgrown hair and pulls him away. “I will break his spine for you. I will bring his head to you.” Ocean eyes stare at Kylo. A promise: unwavering. “Do you want that? I will do it for you.”

Kylo smiles between Hux’s palms; he knows he won’t be able to stay away from Hux for another six months.

 

A hotel ballroom, reserved for the worst of the worst. Weapons dealers and human traffickers. Murderers and frauds. A lie hides behind every good intention.

Leave through the marble corridors, go where nobody can hear. Open a bathroom door, find two men who are covered in bruises and drenched in love richer than blood.

 

 

 

 


End file.
